Hearts and Minds
by Numinous
Summary: It's a couple of months after Wedding Bell Blues. Rory comes to a realization about her relationship with Logan. Will she fight or flee?
1. Like I Care

"Hey, Huntzberger," Rory said cheerfully as Logan swung open his door. She was quite used to the delicious tingle that ran up her spine every time she saw him. The feeling had somehow embedded its way into her consciousness and was now forever associated with Logan.

Logan's lips automatically found hers and he pulled her into his suite, past the common area and into his room. "Well, hi to you too, mister," Rory breathed as he finally let her go. "I just came by to...oh, you're packing," she said with a note of surprise as she caught sight of the state of disarray that was his bed.

"Great investigative skills you've got there, Ace," Logan joked. "I see that I've nicknamed you aptly." He proceeded to haphazardly stuff some clothes into his big, black duffel bag.

Rory merely rolled her eyes. "So," she began as casually as she could, "going somewhere?"

"And you're sharp, too." Logan launched a smirk in her direction fully aware that she was dying to know what he was up to.

Although Rory tried her best not to feel perturbed, she couldn't help it. Why was Logan packing? And why hadn't he mentioned that he was going somewhere? It irked her. And the fact that she was irked, irked her even more. She and Logan were dating. Casually. He didn't need to clear his schedule with her. And she wasn't supposed to care what he was doing when he wasn't with her. Still, it irked.

"Ugh, you're packing all wrong. You don't just shove your clothes into the bag!" Irritated, Rory grabbed his duffel bag and poured its contents back on the bed. In a huff, she began re-packing his clothes in a neat and organized fashion.

Logan laughed. "Have you been taking lessons from Richard's valet?"

"Hmmph, Grandpa no longer has a valet."

"Do you want to be my valet?" He liked getting a rise out of her. Rory was beautiful when provoked and Logan loved seeing her all riled up.

Rory shot him a look. "No, I don't want to be your valet. Or anything else. I don't want to be your anything. Vapid, entitled ass."

Logan did his best to suppress a grin though his lips were just itching to break out into a wide smile. "Ace," he cajoled pulling her to him and wrapping his arms around her, "if you must know, I'm packing for a Life and Death Brigade event this weekend. We're leaving tonight. I'll be back on Sunday."

Absurdly enough, Rory felt a sliver of hurt that she wasn't invited to go, too. Sure, she wasn't _officially_ a member. But it wasn't like she hadn't become friends with other people in the LDB, like Finn, Colin, and even Stephanie, not to mention the fact that she was dating Logan.

"Like I care," she said crossly. She didn't care. Not one bit. No way. Uh uh.

"Hmm, could've fooled me."

"I don't care. But maybe I'm a little curious. It's in my nature. Where are you guys going anyway?" she asked a bit defensively.

Logan let out a small sigh. "You know I can't tell you. We're a super secret, super exclusive club, remember?" He tried to get her to smile. No such luck. "I'll tell you everything when I get back, okay?"

"Sure," Rory replied, still a bit sullen. She knew she was being childish and unfair. Trying her best not to think of why she was suddenly acting like such a brat, Rory gamely put a smile on her face and changed the subject. "Aren't you going to ask me why I came by?" She looked up at him coyly and played with his shirt collar.

Although he was relieved that Rory didn't push the matter, he was getting worried about her getting too attached. They had been seeing each other for a couple of months now and so far everything had been pretty light and carefree, just the way he liked it. Yet there were moments when he looked into her eyes and saw something there. She never said anything or tried to change him in any way. Still, her eyes said it all. It scared the bejeezus out of him. He sometimes wondered if Rory even realized what was happening.

But he didn't want to face that now, so instead he played the game with her. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

Rory shot him a mysterious smile and went to retrieve her bookbag. She pulled out a newspaper and handed it to him.

"_The New York Times_?" Logan looked at her in confusion.

She rolled her eyes at him yet again. "I see I have all the investigative skills in this relationship." She nodded at the newspaper. "Look closer. Notice anything?"

Logan scanned the paper. When he got to page three in the Editorial section his face lit up in a huge smile. "Wow, you're big time now, Ace. Getting published in the big kid paper. I knew that was one of your best articles. I'm really happy for you."

"Can you believe it?" She let out a squeal of delight. "Me, Rory Gilmore, my first byline in the freaking _New York Times_!"

"Come here." He lifted her off the ground and kissed her thoroughly.

Rory sighed. She was happy. The world was beautiful. She fit Logan's body so perfectly and she just felt so totally right in Logan's arms. And... oh God. No no no no no. This was _not_ happening. This was the last thing that she wanted. She did not want to fall in love with Logan Huntzberger. That was not the plan. Miserably, Rory realized that it was too late. She was _already_ in love with Logan. Crap, how the hell did this happen?

Logan immediately felt the change in her demeanor. "What?"

"Uh, nothing." Rory was utterly flustered. She started to ramble almost incoherently. "It's nothing. I just remembered that I, um, I gotta go. Friday night dinner tonight. And I promised Lane we'd hangout this weekend, too. Then there's Kirk, who bought as many copies of _The New York Times_ as he could so that he could resell them in town. I'm supposed to autograph them or something. You know, Kirk. Crazy, kooky, Kirk. Wait, do you know Kirk? And, well, there's a bunch of other things I need to do. So, I better get going."

Rory grabbed her bookbag, ignored the perplexed look on his face and kissed him hastily on the cheek. "Enjoy the LDB event. Even though I know you will, don't do anything too stupid. I'll see you later."

Logan grabbed her hand before she could rush past him. "Ace, are you sure you're okay? I'm not talking to one of your other personalities, am I? You are Rory, right?"

Rory forced herself to stand still for a second, even though every instinct told her she needed to get out of that room for the sake of self-preservation. "Yes, this is me in all my nutty glory."

He still didn't believe everything was alright, but he let it go. "Okay, well, have a nice weekend. Don't get too big an ego signing all those autographs. We can't both be cocky bastards."

Rory grinned at him before turning to flee. "Ooomph," she literally ran into Finn on her way out. "Hey, Finn, nice shade of lipstick. Quite whorish. It suits you."

Finn touched his fingers to the smeared lipstick on his cheek. "Well, thanks, Gilmore, I appre-" Rory disappeared out the door before he even finished his sentence. Finn looked over at Logan. "That Gilmore of yours is an interesting bird."

"Tell me about it."

Outside, Rory immediately whipped out her phone and pushed a button on her speed-dial.

"Hello, my child. Don't you dare try to weasel your way out of Friday night dinner. Now, don't even pretend that you have some paper thing, or Yalie thing, or thing other than the thing that it really is. I know it's a Logan thing. So don't even pretend. And did I already mention that you're not getting out of Friday night dinner? Because I will not be stuck with the stuffy Gilmores all by myself tonight."

"Mom!" Rory cried out in sheer frustration and panic.

"Yes, my sweet?"

"I want strings!"


	2. A Mother and Daughter Talk

Rory couldn't wait for Friday night dinner to be over. It wasn't that she didn't like spending time with her grandparents. She did, of course. But Rory was still reeling from the realization that she was in love with Logan. She didn't know what to think or feel at all. This strings thing changed everything. Her system was in shock and she was dreading any mention of him at dinner. So far they had made it to dessert without any questions about a certain blonde. Thank God.

The dinner also wasn't made any easier by the fact that Lorelai and Emily were still very much at odds over the whole Christopher debacle at the vow renewal ceremony. Lorelai just started speaking to Emily again, but she only did so in one-word sentences. Sadly, Rory knew it would be some time before anything got back to normal, whatever normal was in the Gilmore world anyway.

"So, I hear congratulations are in order," Richard said, smiling over at Rory.

"Yes, of course," Emily chimed in. "We read your article in the paper. It was absolutely wonderful. Imagine, _The Times_ picking up your article from the Yale Daily News. We're so proud of you, Rory."

Rory blushed. "Thanks, Grandma, Grandpa. I was pretty surprised about it, myself."

"Isn't it wonderful, Lorelai?" Emily looked over at her daughter. Beneath her steel gaze, Emily wished that somehow she could make things right between them again. They were farther apart now than they had ever been.

Lorelai matched her mother's gaze with a stony one of her own. She was definitely not going to make things easy on Emily. In her mind, the woman deserved to be thrown off a cliff with weights tied to her ankles. "Terrific," she said with false gaiety.

"Oh, come now, Lorelai, you can't keep up this one word response forever. You were always a chatterbox. You love talking people's ears off with the longest stretch of words imaginable. This must be killing you." As always, Emily knew exactly what buttons to push on her daughter.

"Poison."

Rory knew things were heading downhill fast. She had to get her mom out of there before grenades were launched and missiles were fired. "Well, Grandma, Grandpa, thanks for dinner. It was lovely." She pushed back her chair and stood up before her grandparents could say anything. Lorelai followed suit.

"Yes, it was lovely," Richard echoed, trying to maintain the peace, as well. "We'll see you again next week."

Emily walked them to the foyer where the Gilmores' latest maid brought them their coats. "Well, girls, have a good night then. Lorelai, did I mention that your hair looks especially...wavy tonight. It looks nice."

"Butcher."

Rory grabbed her mom's hand and hurriedly pulled her outside. "Bye, Grandma," she called over her shoulder.

Once they were safely in the jeep, Lorelai unleashed the torrent that had been building up inside her. "My god, can you believe that woman! She's worse than the Wicked Witches of the East and West, Cinderella's stepmother, the Evil Queen in Snow White and the fat obnoxious octopus lady combined! She's the love child of Annie Wilkes and Norman Bates. I can't believe I'm her spawn. Her evil genes are swimming inside me! Do genes swim?"

Rory glanced at her mother sympathetically. "Please don't run us off the road. And, no, genes don't swim."

Lorelai let out a long cleansing breath. "Okay, no more evil mama talk. I've had enough of her anyway. What's this about strings? You know, had I known you had a strings obsession, I would've taken you to see the biggest ball of twine in America when you were a kid. Maybe if I were a great mother and not just an ordinary good one, I would have surmised this strings fixation of yours and saved you from this sudden trauma over some thread."

"Mom, you're the rock star of all moms. And I will definitely give you full disclosure. But, first, I, _we_, need coffee. Luke's coffee. Buckets of it."

"Aww, hon, good to know you've got my genes swimming in you, too. I hope the Lizzie Borden side of our family doesn't somehow manifest in you someday."

"So you want the full-on relationship with enough string to work a million yo-yos, huh, sweetie?" Lorelai asked as she and Rory reveled in their fourth cup of that wondrous black liquid known to mere mortals as coffee. She was in awe that the little blue-eyed baby she had given birth to so many years ago was now a beautiful, smart young woman in her own right. A very confused and altogether quite anal young woman. But a strong one nonetheless. Lorelai loved her little circus freak. She was going to do her best to help Rory navigate her relationship with Logan. But she had a feeling from what she'd witnessed already that this one in particular was going to go down in the annals of Gilmore history as a Great Love. Lorelai smiled absently at the thought. Falling in love with a Great Love was the best feeling ever. No matter what happened, even if it dismantled your heart and tortured your soul, its passion and spirit lived on forever.

"Why do you look like you're about to swoon? Please don't tell me you're fantasizing about Luke." Rory swallowed the last of her coffee before putting her head down on the table. "I _can't _have feelings for Logan. What am I going to do? We had an understanding. And now I'm just stomping all over that understanding with dirty, muddy boots."

"Hey, chin up, I passed those dirty, muddy boots on to you. You should stomp with pride. Now, tell me why-"

"Rory! There you are!" Kirk interrupted, dropping a stack of newspapers on their table. "This is just the first load. I bought every _New York Times_ I could find within a 50 mile radius. I figure you should sign right where your name is printed. We can form an assembly line. I'll pull the Editorial section out and turn it to-"

"Kirk!" Lorelai and Rory yelled in unison. Lorelai's face melted into a fake smile. "Miss Gilmore will be happy to sign newspapers at a later date. However, she can't tonight. We can't risk injuring her hand on a Friday night, can we?"

Kirk looked at her suspiciously. "What, are you her publicist?"

Letting out a loud sigh, Rory grabbed a few papers. "Kirk, I'll sign five. If you manage to sell them, I'll sign the rest tomorrow. Is that okay?"

"Of course," Kirk gloated. He bent down and scrupulously watched Rory as she signed the first paper. "Is that your signature? You really must practice. Maybe if you made a bigger loop with the 'y' it'd look more, shall we say, journalistic?"

"Oh, just let me sign already!" Rory grunted. "There!" She hastily scrawled her signature on all five papers and pushed them towards Kirk.

"Thank you, Rory. Wow, you've really got that sullen celebrity attitude down." Kirk grabbed his papers and made his exit, all the while mumbling, "Maybe I should double my asking price for the newspapers."

"Oy!"

Lorelai laughed. "Imagine when you win a Pulitzer." She took in the forlorn look on her daughter's face. "So, getting back to the trauma at hand, why is it so bad that you have a heart that's filled with all these wonderful, gushy, squishy, feelings for Limo Boy?"

"Eww, Mom, can we please refrain from the use of 'gushy' or 'squishy'? It makes me think of fish eggs."

"Point taken."

Luke came by with a pot of freshly brewed coffee. "Okay, last call for the night. After this, the bar is closed and I'm calling you two a cab."

"Oh, thank you, Luke. Thank you, thank you!" Lorelai exclaimed and clapped her hands excitedly.

"Alright, let's try this again," Lorelai said as Luke walked away from their table. "It's great to be in love. It also sucks to be in love. But, mostly, it's great. So why the Bambi voice? Do I need to get a pen from Luke so that you can draw flow charts and diagrams?"

"I wish it were that easy." If only it were a matter of making a list and crossing off each item as you moved along. Have witty banter with Logan. Check. Go out on a date with Logan. Check. Kiss Logan. Check. Have great, stringless experience with Logan. Check. Move on. Check. Why couldn't it have been that simple? "Mom, I really thought I wouldn't develop any feelings for him. In fact, I didn't even want to. For once, I just wanted to live in the moment and have a fling with a hot guy and not look back. That night at the reception, I threw my lists away and just wanted to have fun and see where that would take me."

"Oh, honey," Lorelai murmured sympathetically. "There's nothing wrong with trying new experiences. But there's also nothing wrong when those experiences change into the unexpected. I'm on the border of Cheesyland here and I'm about to cross it, but you can't control what you feel. Your mind can't bully your heart into doing what it wants. It's actually the other way around."

Rory smiled at her mother. "You've most definitely crossed the border into Cheesyland."

"I am a citizen of Cheesyland. Remind me to sew up a flag when we get home. Something in the vein of brie or munster, perhaps."

"No, provolone, definitely." Rory absently played with her coffee cup. She idly wondered what Logan and the LDB were up to.

Lorelai caught sight of the look of horror that came over Rory's face. "Okay, provolone, it is. What's wrong? You look like I just took a power saw to your favorite book."

"This sucks. I was just thinking about what the Life and Death Brigade is doing right now. They're having some sort of event this weekend. And there are these two girls in the LDB, Shauna and Erica, who are always all over Logan. They follow him around wherever he goes and they talk to him in these silly girl voices. 'Oh, Logan, I need more champagne. Come here Logan, let me give you a massage. Your strong, manly muscles must be so tired,'" Rory mocked. "Ugh, they're so transparent. And they're Giselle Bundchen and Laetitia Casta lookalikes. They probably have their spindly, supermodel arms and legs all over him by now."

"Shauna and Erica? That'd make a great Jeopardy category. I'll take 'Girls with Boy Names that End in 'A' ' for 1000 please, Alex." When that failed to illicit a normal Rory-response, Lorelai moved her chair closer to her daughter and slung her arm around her. "Hey, kid, if these girls have to work so hard at getting Logan's attention, it means that he's not giving them any. I'm sure he could care less about their supermodel spider legs."

Rory shot her mom a look of sheer disbelief. "He's a _guy_. Trust me, he notices."

"I know. I was just trying to make you feel better."

"Well, gee, thanks, it worked wonderfully."

"So when are you going to tell him how you feel?"

"Are you crazy?" Her mom had officially left Cheesyland and was now trying to enroll her in The University of How to Get Your Heart Smashed. "I can't tell him. Logan doesn't want a relationship. He's made that very clear. No, I'm not going to tell him anything."

Lorelai couldn't believe what Rory was saying. "Rory, darling, stubborn child, how can you not say anything? So, what, are you just going to pretend that you feel nothing? Just go on like normal, all the while knowing that you really want more?"

"No, of course not."

"Finally, you're making some sense."

"I'm going to stop seeing him," Rory proclaimed resolutely.

"Um, what? Now who's crazy?"

Rory suddenly took on an air of confidence after coming to a decision. "No, this makes perfect sense. I hate thinking that he may be seeing other girls and me at the same time. I hate that there could be someone else he's kissing the way he kisses me. I can't stand it," she spit out. "But, at the same time, I don't want to throw around any ultimatums. I don't want to change him. Not only would he not be Logan, _my_ Logan, but he'd resent me for it. So, you see, the only real option is to extricate myself from the situation. No blood. No mess. No harm, no foul."

"Yeah, except for the matter of your poor heart turning into stone and pummeling to the ground at a thousand miles an hour," Lorelai said sadly. "Honey, you need to tell Logan how you feel."

"No, I think my way is better." She had made up her mind and that was that.

Lorelai sat up in her chair and let out a long, slow breath. "So you really think that little of Logan, huh?"

Rory glanced at Lorelai quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you can't really think much of Logan if you can't even trust him with your feelings."

"Mom, it's not like that."

"Then what is it like?" Lorelai pushed. If only she could get Rory to be emotionally honest for once. She knew that a whole new world would open itself up to her daughter. "Because to me, it seems like Logan isn't really all that worth it if you don't even want to give him the opportunity to reciprocate your feelings."

"But-"

"Rory, you are my daughter and I love you, but you're being a total scaredy cat. Now think long and hard. Do you believe that Logan is worth it?"

An image of Logan with his artfully messy hair and ever ready smile came to mind. Rory thought of how alive she felt when Logan had grabbed her hand and they had jumped off the platform together. Her skin tingled with the remembrance of his touch. She loved how Logan could irritate her one second, and have her laughing the next. Rory had wanted to murder him after he, Colin and Finn pulled that ridiculous prank. Now, all she wanted was to be slouched against him on the sofa watching The Office for the fourth time. Rory was overcome with a sudden pang of longing.

"Yes, Logan is worth it," Rory admitted quietly. She thought back to their fateful dance. Logan had been man enough to be honest with her about who he was and what he felt. Rory now knew that he deserved the same courtesy.

"That's my girl." Lorelai smiled, but a part of her felt like crying. Her child was growing up and it was wonderful to behold. "I knew it. Limo Boy must really mean something to you if you're talking to me about him."

"What? Mom, I tell you everything."

"No, you don't," Lorelai replied lightheartedly. "When it comes to guys, you never tell me anything. Usually, I find out _after _some all important event has taken place and you sulk and stomp around and don't tell me the details, even when I beg and plead. It's hard being a mother."

"Uh oh, you're starting to sound like Grandma."

"Hush your mouth! Take that back!"

"Nope." Rory gazed at her mom and her mouth broke out into a wide, happy smile. "Thanks, Mom."

"Aww, you're making me feel gushy and squishy. I love you, kid."

"Fish eggs!"

"Oh, yes, sorry." Lorelai stood up and grabbed Rory by the hand. "C'mon, let's get outta here. Luke's giving us the evil eye. We should let him close up and get some rest. He has a big night ahead of him tomorrow." She winked at Luke.

"Eww, Mom! Not in front of the innocent daughter." Rory covered her eyes.

"Like you're innocent. Oh wait, I don't want to know." Lorelai covered her ears.

Together, they walked through the square and headed home. "Mom, what if Logan doesn't want a relationship with me?"

"Well, then he's nothing more than a pompous ass who deserves every inane spider-legged, squeaky-voiced, boy-named, boring one-note chick who throws herself his way. And, if that's not punishment, which I suspect may not be to a guy, then I'll hunt him down and laugh at him because he lost his chance to be with the smartest, most beautiful, most talented chart-making circus freak on the East Coast, maybe even the world."

"See? You _are_ the greatest mom."

"I try." Lorelai linked her arm through Rory's, then stopped for a second. "Oh, the irony. My daughter has gone and fallen in love with some rich boy from that vain, vapid world."

"Mom, you know Logan's not like that. And he's not a boy."

"I know, sweetie. And that makes all the difference in the world."


	3. Those Damn Bond Girls

The members of the LDB cheered in mindless drunkenness as they once again lifted their shot glasses in the air and knocked back another shot of tequila. Logan had lost count of how many he'd had, but he was feeling so wonderfully loose and exhilarated that it didn't matter. The faces around him were laughing and animated. Everyone had a good buzz going, and no one had a care in the world. Life didn't get much better than this. And Logan loved his life.

"Hey, mate," Finn weaved and wobbled his way past people and furniture towards Logan. He slung his arm around his friend's neck and yelled over to the bar. "Robert, get my friend here a whiskey would you, man? He hasn't had enough to drink. I can still see only one of him," he explained jovially.

"Finn, gotta love your logic," Logan chuckled. "Thanks, Robert." He gladly accepted the proffered glass of whiskey and took a hearty sip. "Ah, yes, Johnny Walker Red."

Oddly enough, Logan thought of Ace and the night when she had tried a sip of his whiskey on the rocks. It had burned her throat and she had the funniest look on her face as she exclaimed that it tasted like lighter fluid. Of course, that sure didn't stop her from finishing his drink just to prove to him that she could. A part of him wished she were here. Ace would either be reading quietly in the corner while everyone partied around her or making him laugh with a running commentary of Finn's antics.

"I'm partial to Jack Daniel's, myself," Finn proclaimed, interrupting Logan's thoughts.

"Of course, you are," Colin butted in. "Jack is the everyman's whiskey, whereas Johnny Walker is for the established and stately. Clearly, your palate is not refined enough for the Red label."

"Whatever, Colin," Finn scoffed. "You're lucky I'm in a dancing mood, otherwise I'd wipe the floor with your established and stately, little ass. Speaking of dancing," he nodded over to a group of girls who were swaying merrily to the music blaring in the background, "Shauna has been checking you out all night, Colin. Maybe you'll _finally_ do the horizontal mambo with her tonight. Or do you prefer the jig?" Finn giggled like a maniacal schoolgirl.

"Don't disparage the jig. It is a fine dance and the pride of my people. Along with Guinness and stout, of course." Colin retorted amicably. He glanced surreptitiously at Shauna, the pretty brunette with the deliciously long legs, only to find her periodically gazing adoringly over at Logan. "Ah, Finn," he said, a bit dismayed, "Clearly, you are in dire need of a new pair of eyes. Shauna, not to mention Erica, Alexa _and_ Daniela, all worship at the altar of our man here. Seriously, Huntz, the LDB might as well stand for Logan's Delicious Babes."

Logan lifted his glass in a toast. "I'll drink to that. Besides, you know you two hangout with me strictly for the girl factor. Friendship be damned. You boys are in it for the hunt. Relax, Colin," he slapped his friend affectionately on the back, "you'll get hooked up one of these days."

"Yeah, Colin, buck up, mate," Finn said. "I don't need any help with the ladies, of course. I have my hands full with those lovely women in the Geology department. Those earth girls sure like to get freaky. But now that Logan's got Gilmore, there are even more for us."

Logan's head shot up in puzzlement at Finn's offhand remark. What the hell did _that_ mean? He didn't _have_ Ace, nor did Ace have him. They, most definitely, were not in a "relationship." Sure, he enjoyed spending time with her. She certainly wasn't like any girl he'd dated before. Ace got so excited over the weirdest things…things like Chinese food and Ab Fab, whatever the hell that was. One minute she'd be gushing over the newest pens at the student store and in the next breath she'd be railing about the injustice in Burma. Ace definitely intrigued him. He loved to alternately exasperate her and make her laugh.

Wait, _love_? Even in his thoughts, his mind recoiled against any use of the L word. A cold, prickly feeling suddenly shivered up his spine and exploded somewhere in the vicinity of his neck. Logan took a long, hard swig of whiskey. He quickly followed it with another.

"Hey, Robert! Keep the whiskey coming."

Rory let out a long angry hiss and punched her pillow once more for good measure. Glaring at the clock, she realized she'd been tossing and turning for nearly two hours. It was almost two o'clock in the morning and she had not gotten so much as a wink of sleep. Needless to say, a sleepless Rory was a very cranky Rory.

She couldn't stop thinking of Logan. Where had the LDB gone this weekend? What was he doing right this very second? Was he even thinking of her? Her mind played evil games and treacherously tortured her with images of Logan surrounded by a bevy of brilliant, beautiful girls. Clever, witty girls who knew how to play the game. Those damn Bond girls. Rory sighed. Logan was James Bond and she was Miss Moneypenny. She was the safe, loyal girl that Bond would always respect, but never dare to love. Miss Moneypenny was girlfriend material and Bond simply did not do girlfriends.

Her poor pillow took another hit.

Sleep. She needed sleep. She needed to stop thinking about Logan. Turning over onto her stomach, Rory closed her eyes tight hoping to force her mind into submission. But there he was. And there he remained. Logan was in her heart now. A curl of fear unfurled itself somewhere deep within her. It went beyond gathering the courage to tell Logan the truth. This was about the possibility of losing him. Losing him before she ever even had him.

The sudden shrill ring of her cell phone jolted her out of her maudlin thoughts. Her heart suddenly hammering wildly, Rory glanced at the caller ID, shocked to see Logan's name in the little window. She prayed that nothing was wrong. Calls in the middle of the night usually did not bode well.

"Hello?" she answered cautiously.

There were some muffled sounds and Rory waited with bated breath until finally Logan's voice came over the line. "Acewhereareyou? I'vebeentryingtofindyouwhereareyouhiding? Comeoutcomeoutwhereveryouare."

Rory let out an audible sigh of relief. "Logan? You sound totally sauced!" She laughed at the sound of his slurred, drunken voice. Ha! Even in his inebriated state, Logan was thinking of her. Her heart lurched in a moment of triumph. "Why, Logan Huntzberger, are you drunk calling me?"

"NotsoloudAce. I'mnotdrunkIjustdrankalot. Alotalotalot. Somethingswrongwithmyhead."

Caught up in the surreal turn of events, Rory felt like jumping for joy. "I should record this phone call. Imagine all the blackmail possibilities. The cool, self-assured ladies man calling Miss Moneypenny in the middle of the night."

"WhatAceyoujustwantmeformypennies?"

"Oh, I want more than just your pennies, Logan," Rory flirted unabashedly. She gloried in the freedom of the moment. It wasn't often that she'd have Logan so drunkenly unguarded. "I want you. All of you. Love and strings and everything." The words leapt out of her mouth before her brain could stop them.

More muffled sounds. "IloveyourstringstooAce."

Rory stopped breathing.

The world came to a blissful stand still as every cell in Rory's body sang with joy at the utterance of those six nonsensical little words. Yes, Logan was clearly drunk off his ass. And, yes, who knows what those words meant in the harsh light of sobriety, but for now Rory would cherish those six words and the possibilities they held.

"Logan, darling, put the phone away," a very female voice crooned on the other end of the line. "It's time to come to bed."

"AceIgottago. Imbeingunbuttoned."

And just like that her perfect moment was shattered. Rory felt like a huge wave had just crushed her against the side of a cliff. She felt so small it was like she was disappearing.


	4. The Longest Walk

100 yards.

The distance between them was a mere 100 yards, but to Logan it felt more like a 100 miles. His easy confident stride belied the storm of confusion that masqueraded as thoughts. As he made his way toward Branford, Logan once again puzzled over the enigma that was Rory Gilmore. In the three days since he returned from the LDB event, he had yet to see or hear from her. There were no return phone calls. No answers at the door. No chance encounters at any of the coffee carts on campus. Not even a glimpse at the library. The afternoon he spent wandering around three floors of dusty bookshelves hoping to catch her sniffing books proved fruitless. Ace had disappeared. And for the first time in his charmed and privileged life, Logan felt a trickle of fear worming its way into his consciousness.

For the millionth time, he racked his brain for what could have gone wrong. His recollection of Saturday night's events was a bit fuzzy. Logan never got that drunk. He was never that out of control. But on that night he was, and the reason for his excessive drinking eluded him. Somewhere in the depths of his heart, however, Logan understood exactly why he had drunk himself into a stupor. But his mind just wouldn't let him face it. Not yet.

Still, even though his memory was foggy, he instinctively knew he didn't do anything to hurt Ace. Yeah, there was the drunken phone call. It was stupid, but harmless…some mindless talk about pennies? All very innocent. Surely, there was nothing said that would cause Ace to completely ignore him.

Logan shook his head in an effort to clear it. The weekend had turned out to be a bad one on the ladies front. First, he'd ticked off Alexa when he left her - as she was unbuttoning his shirt no less - to help Finn and Robert burn Colin's clothes. The expression on Colin's face had been priceless. His entire bag of designer argyle sweaters, pressed pants and paisley socks went up in smoke. Logan laughed at the memory, which he was able to remember surprisingly well. Alexa didn't find the situation quite so funny however. She was hot and all, but definitely too clingy. He hadn't wanted to find her in his bed and Logan didn't regret not sleeping with her at all. And now, somehow he had pissed off Ace, who, at the moment, was the very opposite of clingy. Women. Logan sure knew how to work them, but he doubted that he would ever understand them.

Outside Rory's bedroom window, Logan was dismayed to find it shut tight with the blinds closed and curtains drawn. He shouldn't have been so surprised. Her window had been dark each night that he'd come by. Feeling a bit disconcerted at how worried he was getting, Logan wondered if something had happened back in Stars Hollow. Had Ace gone home? Was she alright? Did something happen with her mother?

He made his way to her door and knocked, not expecting anyone to answer. Surprisingly enough, however, the door swung open and Logan heard her before he saw her.

"Marty, I figured you'd be right back. You forgot your - oh!" Rory stopped short when she saw that it was not Marty at her door.

Something unameable crumbled in Logan as he noted the abrupt change in Rory's demeanor. Her eyes turned cold and she automatically retreated into an aloof stance, her crossed arms acting like a shield. She looked up at him frostily.

"Hey, Ace," he said smoothly. If there ever was a time to turn on the charm, this was it. "I missed you. Been burying that pretty nose of yours in some thick book again? May I come in?" He tentatively reached out to her, but stopped when she inched backwards away from him. Logan did his best to cover his growing fear and confusion. What the hell did he do to cause this?

A myriad of emotions warred within her. Every instinct told her to close him off, to not let him in. She had to protect herself. But her body screamed at her to go to him, to touch him, to do everything in her power to ease the look of worry in his soft brown eyes. The battle waged on but in the span of that moment, Rory decided that her heart had been wrecked enough and she was not going to let him do any more damage.

"Now's not a good time. I have a ton of work to do," she stated simply, her voice devoid of emotion.

Logan forced his lips to curve into a wide, disarming smile. "C'mon, Ace, I'm sure you have five minutes to spare for me," he said in a low, soft voice.

Oh, God, not the sex voice! No fair, Rory thought frantically. There was no way on earth she could resist Logan's sex voice and he knew it. Ironically enough, that infuriated her enough to give her strength. "No, Logan. I said now is not a good time," she said forcefully, her cheeks starting to flush.

Good, she was getting angry. Logan knew he was making progress. He was starting to feel like himself again. "Ace. Five minutes." He gently caressed her outraged cheek with a finger.

"No...Logan..." she faltered.

Logan seized his opportunity and bent down to touch his lips to hers. He had meant to give her a small kiss as a way to distract her enough to step inside so they could talk. But as soon as he touched her, Logan's mind stopped working and the kiss spiraled out of control. It wasn't apparent until this very second how much he had missed her. All he wanted was this - the feel of her mouth, her arms tight around him, her sweet, clean floral scent. God, she felt so good.

Even as she was drowning in the passion of Logan's kiss, a bubble of rage rose within Rory. How dare he come here and work his charms on her. What a bastard to try and manipulate her into giving him what he wanted. She was not going to give in. Logan wanted their relationship on his terms and his terms only. Unfortunately, she could no longer abide by his terms. Although she loved him, she knew they could not be together. Rory had to end it. It was time.

She broke off the kiss and shoved him away as hard as she could. Slamming the door closed behind her, she whirled on him and gave in to her anger. "You jerk! You can't just come crawling through my window anytime you feel like it! I'm not some toy that you can come play with at your leisure!"

What the hell was she talking about? Since when did she have a problem with him coming over. "I didn't crawl through the window," he replied easily. "I came and knocked at your door."

If looks could kill, Logan would have been ashes on the floor. "Oh, don't you try and worm your way out of this. You know what I mean."

"I'm not worming my way out of anything. Didn't I just knock at your door?"

"Yes!" Rory replied shrilly. She was so mad she could hardly think straight.

"And so your point would be?"

Taking a deep breath, Rory tried to get her thoughts in order. Getting into a verbal sword fight with Logan was definitely not the way to go. "My i point /i is that you can't just come waltzing over whenever you feel like it. I said I was busy and you totally ignored that and just kissed me."

"So I should have called first? I called you and you never returned any of my calls, so I thought I'd come over to say hi and make sure you're okay. If you didn't want to be kissed, then you should have politely said so instead of kissing me back." Logan knew he had to keep her off balance. It was his only chance to get himself out of whatever minefield he'd stepped on and to find out exactly what was bothering her.

"The very fact that I didn't call you back should have signaled that I was busy, or that I didn't have time to spend with you. Or even that I didn't i want /i to spend any time with you."

Ouch. Logan felt like he'd gotten punched in the gut. But he pressed on. "Well, actually, the fact that I hadn't heard from you made me think that something terrible must have happened, because you always return friends' phone calls and are very diligent about staying in touch with people. If you hadn't heard from Lane or you mother after leaving them several messages, would your first thought be that they didn't want to talk to you?"

Frustration seeped from every pore of her body. Damn him. He was doing that thing he does so well. "Look, Logan, it doesn't matter anyway. I -"

"Of course it matters, Ace." He heaved a mighty sigh. "Okay, let's just cut to the chase here, shall we? Obviously, you're mad at me about something. Is this about Saturday night? Look, if it bothered you, then I'm sorry. I didn't realized it'd upset you this much." Was she really this i mad /i over him calling her while he was trashed?

Rory stiffened at the mention of what happened on Saturday. How could he talk about it so casually like it was nothing? Was he really that much of a callous womanizer that he didn't even realize she had feelings at stake? Logan started sexing up some other chick while he was on the phone with her! She wanted to tear his balls out.

"You asshole! Of course, I'm mad at you about Saturday! Inconsiderate pervert creep! How could you!"

It was Logan's turn to get mad. Rory was getting psychotic over one stupid phone call. She was being completely unreasonable. "Okay, so I was drunk. I'm a guy. Drunk guys to dumb things. No big deal." He shrugged.

Logan's shrug nearly caused Rory to come unhinged. It was so utterly dismissive. "Are you serious! You were drunk! That's your excuse! Way to take responsibility for your behavior there, Logan. What, you think you can just sail through life not owning up to your actions?"

"No, I'm very aware of the consequences of my actions. In this particular case, I don't think my actions warrant such an extreme consequence. I just don't see how your anger is justified. I did nothing wrong."

Rory stared at him in disbelief. She could not believe what she was hearing. How she could have fallen in love with this heartless fiend was beyond her. Beneath a facade of confidence, charm and wit, Logan was nothing but a cold, unfeeling bastard who used people for his own amusement. She felt so betrayed. All her rage and anger drained away. A painful emptiness took their place. Her heart lay shattered at her feet.

She could feel the tears coming and she fought against the growing lump in her throat. Logan saw her beautiful blue eyes fill with tears, but was still at a loss as to why. He wished there was something he could do or say to make things right, but he just didn't understand how things between him and Ace had gone horribly awry. His heart wrenched at the inexplicable sadness on her face.

"Rory," he said softly and cupped her face in his hands. "Tell me how to fix this. Make me understand."

But she merely shook her head. Rory gathered the courage to look him straight in the eyes. The tenderness she saw there nearly killed her. "There's nothing to fix, Logan. There's nothing to understand. We can't go on the way we have been. This is over. Whatever there was between us, it's over."

Logan froze at the unexpected note of finality in Rory's voice. She was ending things. A loud buzzing started sounding in his head and for a second Logan felt as if he were falling. "I don't want to lose you, Ace." His voice was uncharacteristically plaintive.

Rory looked at him almost with sympathy. "You can't lose what you don't have," she said gently. Gathering what courage she had, Rory took Logan's hand and led him to the door. "Bye, Logan."

He faced her and looked long and hard into those expressive blue eyes of hers. Empty, but haunted eyes looked back at him. Gone was the merriment and giddiness she had whenever she spoke of her mother and the craziness that was Stars Hollow. Gone were the flecks of anger or mischief that he loved to spark within her. Gone was the focus and seriousness whenever she was caught up in a book or busy highlighting pages of text.

But saddest of all, gone was the look of love that Logan woke up to after their nights together, the look of love that flashed when she glanced at him over a cup of coffee, and the look of love that shone when she smiled at him, and him alone. Gone was the look of love that had scared him shitless, but now would give anything to get back. But it was too late. And he knew it.

"Bye, Ace."

As the door clicked shut behind him, Logan steeled himself for the long solitary walk back to his dorm. Damn, whiskey. He was going to make sure that Finn got rid of all traces of Johnny Walker Red from the room. Tonight, it would be all about the tequila. And lots of it.

Lastly, Logan made a mental note to have Colin, upon pain of death, keep his damn cell phone out of his hands at all costs.


	5. Logans and Colins and FinnsOh My!

"Please don't tell me you're still mooning over that blonde playboy scum!" Paris entered the room with her usual bluster.

"I'm not mooning, I'm wallowing. There is a definite distinction between unconscious dreaming about the playboy scum and willful, indulgent thought about said playboy scum," Rory replied as she squirted chocolate sauce on a giant marshmallow and stuffed the entire thing in her mouth.

Paris eyed the half-eaten pizza, boxes of Chinese food, ice cream, cheese spray, cookie dough, whipped cream, and red vines with unabashed disgust. "Well, whatever you're doing it's revolting. It's been almost two weeks since you unyoked yourself from Huntzberger. I hope you know that your metabolism won't stay this way forever. You keep wallowing like this and pretty soon you'll find that you're 40-years old and seven dress sizes larger."

"Gee, Paris, thanks for your concern." A part of her knew that Paris was right, however. She couldn't go on moping over Logan indefinitely. But it was too hard to let go. Once the wallowing period was over, Rory would have to put Logan behind her once and for all. And she just wasn't ready, or able, to do that yet.

"Are those salt and vinegar potato chips?" Paris took a seat on the couch and grabbed the family-sized bag of chips.

Rory looked over at her roommate in mild surprise. "Why aren't you at Doyle's?"

"Those roommates of his are loud, inconsiderate sloths!" she waved her hands in an animated show of distaste. "I couldn't stand to stay there for one more night. Then when I nicely suggested that we come back here, Doyle had the audacity to pull some neanderthal act and demand that he and his woman stay where _he_ decides they should stay. The blowhard!"

"He didn't!" Despite her current misery, a giggle escaped from Rory's lips at the mention of Paris doing anything "nicely." The image of Doyle standing up to an irate Paris threatened to start making her laugh uncontrollably. She definitely must have ingested too much sugar tonight.

"Yes, he did. The little gasbag. I was not about to set feminism back to the Stone Age, so I told him he can come crawling over here if wants to see me. Otherwise, he can expect to not have any sex. At least not from me. And it's damn good sex, let me tell you." Paris smiled smugly. "This sex withholding thing is quite empowering you know."

"Uh, Paris, please stop saying sex so many times in my presence," Rory groaned. "I'm going through enough trauma here."

"I can see that." Paris glanced at the television as she proceeded to wolf down chips at an alarming rate. "Are you seriously watching 'The Andy Griffith Show'? This is pathetic, even for you."

"Hey, I like Opie."

They watched in companionable silence as hilarious hijinks ensued involving Andy, Barney and Aunt Bee's kerosene cucumbers, also known as really awful homemade pickles.

Paris looked over at Rory. "What the _hell_ did we just watch? We're college girls. It's Saturday night. What the _hell_ did we just watch?"

"You're not thinking of calling Janet and Althea for more social advice, are you?"

"Oh, hell no," Paris replied. "I've had enough of their so-called advice. They would have us act coy, play games and pretend to be simpering females, which really only plays into the guy's hands. No, the male-female dynamic is a battlefield. And I'm prepared for mortal combat."

Rory didn't know whether to laugh or go buy herself some riot-gear. Paris looked as if she were about to storm the beaches of Normandy. "Easy there, General Patton. I think you can hold off on the guerilla warfare, at least for a little while. I'm sure Doyle will come around."

"I'm serious, Rory. In life and love, we must take no prisoners," Paris remarked thoughtfully. "Being in a relationship is like being a drill sergeant in the Marines. You have to break down the grunts during boot camp in order to build them up into warriors. As strong women, we need to tear down the boys and remake them into the men we want them to be."

"Aren't you getting a bit gung ho on the military metaphors? It sounds pretty extreme." Rory was starting to fear for Paris' sanity. She thought she saw a strange glint in her eye that was eerily reminiscent of Jack Nicholson in _The Shining_. "Personally, I wouldn't want to be a drill sergeant to anyone. What kind of relationship is that?"

"Oh, Rory, you're so naive. It's sweet really," Paris replied in typical condescending fashion, then sighed in that insufferable, yet strangely endearing, way of hers. No wonder Rory was heartbroken over Huntzberger. The poor girl clearly had no idea how to deal with a notoriously noncommittal ladies' man like Logan. "Look at what happened with you and the Yale Hefner," she commented vaguely.

Rory stiffened ever so slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Well, in polite terms, you didn't call him on his crap," Paris said pointedly.

When Rory didn't say anything, she continued. "You should have handed his ass to him on a silver platter. Instead, you gave him what no woman should ever give a man - an easy out. He probably danced back to his dorm, because you did all of his work for him. Really, Rory, that's almost grounds for getting kicked out of the Sisterhood. You should have made him squirm and get him to give you all kinds of stupid excuses." She paused dramatically for effect. "And _then_ you hit him below the belt and let him know that he's not man enough for you and that he's weak and pathetic and, well, you get the picture. If you're going to break up with a guy, at least make him feel _very very_ small when you do it. I can pretty much guarantee that you'd have felt better about it. It's a pretty cathartic process."

A light turned on somewhere in Rory's brain. Holy shit! Paris was actually making some sense. Logan had gotten off virtually scot-free. She never even really pushed the matter of his offensive behavior...sweet-talking her on the phone and then getting it on with some spider-legged Bond girl. How repulsive. All she said was a lame ass goodbye. Sure, she was emotionally paralyzed at the time, but looking back she now found it woefully pathetic. Rory found herself getting angry all over again.

"Oh my god, I think you're actually right, Paris," Rory breathed. "But, wait, don't you think Logan's had his share of angry females beating down his door and demanding explanations?"

Paris shot her another "poor Rory, you're so naive look." "Oh, I'm sure he has. You can't be a cad like Huntzberger and not infuriate some unfortunate, hapless female along the way. The trick is to not be pitiful and beseeching, but to be tenacious and unyielding when you let him have it. You have to play hardball. It's the only thing guys understand."

"So, who died and made you Gloria Steinem?" Rory asked, a bit bewildered by Paris' newfound "female power."

Paris merely shrugged. "I just decided it was time to go after what I want and plow over anything that gets in my way."

"Did you ditch Terrence again?"

"Sure have. His life coaching just wasn't doing anything for me anymore."

"Ahh, and it all falls into place." Rory smiled over at her roommate. Sometimes, she wondered how they managed to not kill each other. There were times when it still surprised her that they had become good friends. But now Rory couldn't imagine a Yale existence without Paris.

"You know, Rory, you have a perfect opportunity tonight to tell Huntzberger off once and for all."

"What?" Confronting Logan sounded good in theory, but, in reality, not so much.

"Apparently, his bosom buddy Finn is hosting some pre-Spring Break bash over at his dorm. Where've you been? The whole campus has been counting down to it all week."

"Spring Break's not for another month!"

A look of repugnance settled over Paris' features. "Yes, well, he must be getting started early. What a boozehound."

"Aww, I think you'd like Finn," Rory laughed, picturing Paris standing head to torso against Finn. "He may just be the General Lee to your General Grant."

Paris let out a loud, most unfeminine snort. "Let's hope my life never comes down to that. I'm destined for bigger, better, and, decidedly, more sober and intellectual battles. So," she said turning the subject back to Rory, "you want to go the party?"

"What! Are you high? No!" Okay, Paris had seriously lost it. "I don't want to go to some party where I'm sure Logan has his pick of gorgeous, cunning, supermodel types with legs up to here." Rory raised her hand high above her head for emphasis.

"C'mon, Rory, I'm bored. The party could be fun."

"You want to go to a party and have fun? Who are you and what have you done with Paris Gellar?" Rory shook her head vehemently. "And, no, I don't want to be your entertainment for the evening."

Paris sniffed huffily. "I want a chance to hone my female battle skills out in a natural social setting. And you should, too. Don't you want to show Huntzberger how great and fabulous you're doing without him? Well, you can pretend you're doing fabulous, anyway. Don't you want him to see what he's missing? Don't you want to laugh in his face and tell him what a deplorable, repugnant ass he is?"

"Yes. No. Maybe." Rory admitted, albeit confused about what she really wanted to do. "That sounds a lot like game playing, Paris. Are you sure you haven't been talking to Janet or Althea?"

A sigh heaved itself from Paris body. "It's not a game, Rory. Love is a battlefield."

"Great, now you're channeling Pat Benatar. My mother would be proud."

"Speaking of Lorelai," Paris said, knowing full well how to press Rory's buttons, "what would she do? She wouldn't let the guy get away with it. Lorelai would wipe the floor with anyone who treated her the way Huntzberger treated you. She'd at least confront him first."

"Ugh, you just had to play the mom card," Rory shot Paris a dirty look. "Okay, fine," she said resignedly, "C'mon, Xena, put your warrior princess outfit on. We're going to the party."

Paris shot up in a flurry of excitement, while Rory gathered the energy to just stand up. She trudged into her room and stared blindly into the closet. What exactly did one wear into the lion's den?

Glancing at the clock, Rory decided it wasn't too late to call her mother. As she pressed the speed-dial button, she hoped that her mom and Luke weren't in the middle of anything...intimate. Ewww! Rory made a face at herself in the mirror. Her mind seriously didn't need to go there.

"Hello, daughter of mine. How's the wallowing? Do you need more supplies? I can be right there with the jelly beans and cinnamon bears. I'll even have Luke brew you up a special batch of coffee if you want." Rory thought she detected a faint grunt on the other side of the line. "Do you want me to come over and break Logan's legs? Or, even better idea, I can kidnap him and duct tape him to a dinner chair in the Gilmore house, and subject him to hours and hours of nothing but Richard and Emily. That will break him for sure."

Rory laughed at the mental image. Logan trapped with her grandparents seemed like perfect punishment. "Hey, Mom, sorry to call you so late. I need the patented Lorelai Gilmore wardrobe advice." She was actually starting to get excited about the prospect of seeing Logan tonight. Plus, she needed to let off some steam and yelling at Logan seemed like it could be good for her soul.

"What's the occasion, hon?" Lorelai piped up. She was curious about the note of mischief in her daughter's voice.

"I'm going in for the kill."

"Aha!" Lorelai whooped into the phone. "You are your mother's daughter after all. Going in for the kill, huh? Well, that's pretty serious business. This calls for a bit of La Femme Nikita, a dash of Alexis Carrington and a smidgen of Holly Golightly. Let's see..." she pictured Rory's closet, "The blue cashmere sweater that showcases your eyes and shows off every delicious Gilmore curve. Shush, Luke! If the girl's got it, she has to flaunt it. The tight, black pencil skirt with the slit up the side and, oooh, definitely the knee-length boots with the killer heels. That'll totally slay him."

Rory couldn't help but snicker as she hurriedly pulled the articles of clothing from their various hiding places. If this wasn't a female warrior outfit, she didn't know what was. "Perfect! I knew I could count on you. You could give Miss Celine a run for her money."

"Aww, look at you with the compliments." Lorelai smiled to herself. She was glad to hear Rory sounding so alive and energized. She only hoped that Rory was dealing with her heartbreak in a positive manner. "Have a good kill and don't forget to do at least two hair twirls. It'll bring him to his knees. Guaranteed."

"Will do. Thanks, Mom. Love you. Say hi to Luke for me."

"Bye, hon."

Twenty minutes later, as she and Paris approached the swarm of people at Finn's latest bash, Rory lost touch with her inner Femme Nikita. Suddenly, the party didn't sound like such a hot idea. Her hands were clammy with nerves and she had lost all feeling in her left pinkie toe. "Paris, maybe we should head back," she said tentatively. "My left foot's turning numb and I..."

"Don't tell me you're chickening out already, Rory. We just got here," Paris snapped derisively, as she looked around at the throngs of people surrounding them. She cocked her head to the left. "Who's that with the leer? Don't turn your head in any obvious way."

Rory turned as surreptitiously as possible. "Oh, that's Robert. Don't feel too special. He leers at anything female. Robert hangs out with the usual suspects."

Paris gasped. "_That's_ Robert Pierce! I thought I recognized that chin."

"Huh?" Rory was thoroughly confused.

"His mother is Dr. Simone Hadley-Pierce," Paris explained as if everyone should know who Dr. Hadley-Pierce was. "She's one of the leading female thoracic surgeons in New York. A brilliant doctor and a total queen bitch. I want to be her someday."

Rory rolled her eyes. "Well, you're halfway there," she muttered under her breath.

Paris merely ignored her. "I should go make nice to him later. It never hurts to make connections."

"You sound just like my grandfather."

It was Paris' turn to roll her eyes. "Honestly, Rory, have you learned nothing from Richard and Emily? It's all about who you know. You dated Huntzberger for two months. It's sad that you didn't parlay that into some meaningful networking opportunities. After all, you're supposed to be a journalist. I bet you don't even know anything about Colin or Finn either."

"I didn't date Logan for his name," Rory said exasperated. "And I do know that Colin went to boarding school in Switzerland and had a bunch of hot moms."

"Well, that's useful," Paris scoffed. "Colin comes from a long line of cutthroat litigators. His great great grandfather founded the law firm of Maguire, Bishop and O'Halloran in Boston. It's a venerable and highly revered firm. If you ever need an acquittal, that firm is the one to call. Of course, you'll need to sign over all of your earthly possessions to be able to afford their legal fees, but from everything I've read, it's well worth it."

"Ah, well, that explains Colin," Rory mused. "He's pretty harmless most of the time, but Colin can be quite the smug ass. What do you know about Finn?" she asked curiously.

"What rock do you live under?" Paris asked, shocked at Rory's complete and utter cluelessness. "Finnley Trenowith of Trenowith Estate Vineyards? His family owns the largest and most successful vineyard in all of Australia. The boy was weaned on wine. It's no wonder that he's the accomplished wino that he is today."

"Wow," Rory gasped.

"Wow is right. It's amazing that you even caught the attention of the wealthiest scion of them all. Logan, Colin and Finn make one of the most influential and commanding trios on campus."

"Logans and Colins and Finns...oh my!" Rory exclaimed breathlessly. She had absolutely no idea how rich and powerful Logan and his set truly were. "Well, thanks, for the lesson in lifestyles of the rich and famous, Paris. And now you expect me to try and intimidate him? You're off your rocker, sister."

"Oh, they're still just little boys underneath all the filthy richness." Paris suddenly grabbed Rory's arm. "Speak of the devil. There he is with one of his pet buffoons now. I can make out the tops of their heads. Do they really think that messy hair thing is still cool?"

Standing on tiptoe for a better view, Rory could see Logan standing in the corner about thirty feet away. When she looked at Logan, she didn't see the Huntzberger name, or the newspaper magnate's son, or connections into the world of journalism. All she saw was the man she had fallen in love with. Logan with his quick wit and soft kisses, and a voice that put her body on fire. She instinctively longed for him.

Her insides twisted as she watched him laugh at something was said. Logan was more handsome than ever. And his smile was as gorgeous and bright as she remembered. Logan looked good. Damn good. As Rory's heart started pounding at the sight of him, a tidal wave of both love and anger washed over her from head to toe. She doubted that Logan even missed her. The very thought crushed her.

"Get a grip!" Paris hissed into her ear, bringing Rory back to reality. "He's just a guy. Don't let him get to you. You're here to make him feel small, remember? C'mon, you look like you need a drink." Before Rory could even protest, Paris was dragging her out towards the bar and away from Logan.

Logan took a sip of his cognac and smiled easily, as if he hadn't a care in the world. The truth was he was restless. He could party with his friends, laugh, drink and be merry, but there was still something missing. Ever since that moment he walked away from Ace's door, he had ceased to be able to enjoy anything. Nothing seemed fun anymore. The feeling made him frustrated and impatient. He felt like a caged tiger prowling the perimeter of his prison.

He knew he would get over his restlessness eventually. Ace wasn't the only girl for whom he had developed feelings. For the first time, however, the depth of those feelings scared him. Ace actually made him want to _try_ to be different, to be boyfriend material. Logan wasn't afraid of commitment necessarily, it was more like he knew he would be bad at it and so being in a relationship never interested him. It just wasn't in him to remember anniversaries or call to let someone know where he was at every second or to play the role of loving, supportive "boyfriend" twenty-four/seven. That's just what it was to him - a role, and one that didn't come naturally. Plus, it was too much responsibility. Being in a relationship meant you were accountable for another person's feelings. There were already too many expectations on Logan's shoulders. He didn't need or want to add anything else to the list.

Logan shook his head and took another sip of cognac. He let the amber liquid burn slowly, soothingly down his throat. Why was he thinking about this now anyway? Ace. It always came down to Ace. He was still angry about what happened between them. No matter how he played and replayed that final scene with her, it still didn't make any sense. Ace had berated him for no good reason and it grated on him. Sighing resignedly, Logan willed himself to forget about her.

He began to make his way through the crowd when he was tackled unceremoniously by a very drunk Finn. "Hey, matey!"

Logan scrunched his face in response to the toxic fumes emanating from Finn's mouth. "Ah Finn, have you been tapping the moonshine or something? You could start a fire with that breath of yours."

"I'm saving that particular trick for later with Rosemary." Finn grinned lasciviously.

That elicited a genuine smile from Logan. "Yeah, good luck with that. You can barely stand up, buddy."

"I'm fine. In fact, I'm masterful," Finn drawled. "I'm having the time of my life. This has to be one of the greatest parties I've ever thrown."

"You say that about every one of your parties, Finn. But I must say, this is shaping up to be quite the gala, for the month of March anyway." Logan looked out at the nameless sea of faces, none of whom he particularly cared about. Damn, he caught the eye of one Alexa Adams, who was back to trying to seduce him. He sent a vague smile her way, raised his glass in a silent toast and quickly turned back to Finn. Great, now he had to make sure to avoid Alexa for the rest of the night.

"Dealing with unwanted attentions, are we?" Finn crooned. Even in his inebriated state, he was surprisingly observant. "Alexa's a beautiful bird. I certainly wouldn't kick her out of my bed."

Logan smiled wryly. "Yes, well, that's why you're you and I'm me, isn't it, Finn?"

"And thank god for that." Finn laughed. "I don't think the world is ready for two of you or two of me. Or is it two of us? We times two? Ouch. Math hurts."

"I doubt math will be the only thing hurting in the morning." He laughed at the woeful expression on Finn's face. Finn was one of his oldest friends and he loved that he could always lighten up any situation. "You, my friend, are going to have one mother of a headache tomorrow."

"But not if I wake up next to the lovely Rosemary," Finn corrected merrily. "I stand by my theory that a night with a gorgeous woman can abate even the biggest of hangovers. Yes," he nodded, "a beautiful lady is a great cure-all."

"Or the very source of one's headache," Logan drolled.

"Still hung up on Gilmore, are you?" Finn was of the mind that if you liked a certain girl, you spent time with her. If you didn't like a certain girl, you go find another one. And if the girl didn't like you? Well, you drive her crazy until she gives in, of course. Finn rolled with the punches and didn't concern himself with too much thought and analysis. He lived an unfettered and uncomplicated life, able to put any negativity behind him without much effort at all. Finn was lucky that way.

"Not exactly," Logan answered as honestly as he could. "More like...still fascinated."

"Fair enough, mate," Finn replied casually. It was obvious to him that Logan was head over heels in love, lust, or whatever with Gilmore. Logan hadn't been this taken with a girl since...well, ever. He didn't understand why it was such a big deal. If Gilmore made him happy, then he should be with her. He should get what he wanted and be done with it. Simple as that. Perhaps, Logan needed a little push in the right direction. He grinned wickedly over at his friend. "You love her?"

Taken by complete surprise, Logan nearly spit out his drink. "What!"

"You know, it makes you shiver. It eats at your insides, you know?"

"Wha-" then Logan caught on and shot Finn a dirty look. "Aw, Finn, are you doing _Jerry Maguire_ again? How many times do I have to tell you? You're an awful Rod Tidwell." He shook his head at Finn's insanity.

Finn dramatically clutched at his heart. "I'm out here for you! You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It's an up at dawn pride-swallowing siege that I will never fully tell you about! Okay! Help me help you. Help me help you."

"I know what you're doing. Don't think I don't see right through you." Logan was torn between joining in on Finn's idea of fun and elbowing him in the head. Fun won and Logan did his best Tom Cruise as Jerry Maguire impersonation. "I didn't shoplift the pooty. We were thrown together and - I mean it's two mutual people who...Alright, I shoplifted the pooty."

"Shame on you. Shame on you." Finn crooked an accusing finger at Logan.

"Okay, I leave you two jackasses alone for ten minutes and you're doing _Jerry Maguire_ without me!" Colin looked at Logan and Finn reproachfully. "And, Finn, how many times do I have to tell you? You're an awful Rod Tidwell. Thank god you didn't get to the Marvin Gaye song yet."

Logan turned to Colin. "You...ungrateful...unctuous..."

"Dick?"

"Dick." And the trio collapsed into a fit of delirious and drunken laughter.

"Colin, you're such a smarmy ass, you make a perfect Bob Sugar," Finn sputtered in between bouts of laughter. "We are so retarded. I love it," he exclaimed proudly.

"Hey," Colin nudged Logan's arm, "speaking of shoplifting the...um, well, nevermind, bad joke. Gilmore girl. Two o'clock." Colin nodded his head towards the door. "She seems to be headed our way."

Logan turned to his right and, sure enough, there Ace was, looking beautiful as ever. In fact, she was stunningly hot in that tight black skirt and heels. Logan's mouth went dry.

"And she brought her fire-breathing roommate with her," Finn added, practically salivating at the scene that was sure to come.

As if in slow motion, Logan watched as Ace, with Paris trailing close behind her, walked directly to them. "Hello, Ace," he greeted genially, if not somewhat curiously, as she came to a stop before him.

"Logan, Colin, Finn," Oh my, she thought as she looked at them each in greeting before forcing her attention back to Logan. She prayed that the tequila she'd just inhaled would kick in. "We need to talk."

Behind Logan, Colin and Finn looked at each other and simultaneously cringed in horror. Those were the last four words any self-respecting guy wanted to hear from a girl.


	6. Those Darn Strings

**A/N:** A big, heartfelt thanks to everyone who has left a review. Your comments and opinions mean a lot. I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far.

"Okay, let's talk," Logan replied easily.

He was bemused by the momentary flicker of panic that flitted over Ace's face. It was a wonder that he could read her so easily. Her expressions spoke to him so effortlessly and Logan was oddly exhilarated by the fact that it was so natural how he understood her. This was why he couldn't comprehend why Ace had suddenly broken things off with him. He had been unable to read what was going through her mind. And that bothered him greatly. He had also missed her very much. But Logan hid it all behind a wall of amusement and practiced casualness.

Rory forced herself to be calm even though her heart raced wildly. A slow, simmering anger began to burn as Logan continued to look at her so calmly, so coolly. He stood there, the very picture of confidence and fearlessness. She wanted to wipe that ever present smirk off his face. "Not here. Outside," Rory said imperiously, hoping she was able to project her grandmother's haughty tone.

"Aww, wait. Wait a minute," Finn interjected. "You're going to deprive us of the pleasure of witnessing your little tete-a-tete," he bemoaned. "This is a party! We could use a little action a la 'The O.C.' You know, rich boy gets bitch slapped by wronged female. Fist fights. Pool orgies. Broken champagne bottles. Threesomes." Finn raked his eyes suggestively over Paris' body.

"Welcome to Yale, bitch," Colin added in his best surfer accent and failing miserably.

Paris eyed them disdainfully. "How you deadbeats manage to function in society is beyond me. Strip away daddy's name and credit cards, and all you've got left are drunk, little boys who can barely string two intelligent sentences together, let alone dress themselves in the morning. Just what is that thing you're wearing?" she asked, staring at Finn's crazy shirt. "And you," she said waving a hand at Colin, "Raiding Alex P. Keaton's closet, are you? I'm surprised you don't have your initials emblazoned on your sweater."

"Oh! We've got us a feisty one. And we like 'em feisty," Colin exclaimed cheerfully. "Alex P. Keaton is God. Thanks for the compliment." He turned to Finn, "I do believe those are wombats on your shirt, are they not?"

Finn smiled capriciously. "Why, yes, they most certainly are. You like my shirt, Paris? I can assure you that I look even better without it. Care to have a peek?"

"I say we make our getaway now, before the fireworks really get going," Logan said, his voice low and his mouth dangerously close to Rory's cheek. Next to them, Paris, Colin and Finn continued to snipe at each other.

At Rory's nod, Logan guided her smoothly towards the door. "After you."

As they made their way away from the party, the loud bass of the music was gradually replaced by the strong, nervous thump of Rory's heart. Now that she was alone with Logan, she wasn't quite sure where to start. Conflicting emotions surged through her. Love. Fear. Anger. Sadness. Resentment. Excitement. And the toes of her left foot were still being pinched into numbness by her boot.

"You'll be sure to alert me when the talking portion of the evening begins, won't you?" Logan quipped as they walked in silence.

It was now or never. Rory turned to him and opened her mouth to speak.

"Let me guess," he said before she could even utter a word, "Jerk? Ass? Arrogant? Inconsiderate...mindless...fratboy...lowlife. And, of course, my all-time favorite, buttfaced miscreant," Logan said, trying to keep a straight face. "I must say, Ace, you have an impressive command of the English language. And I certainly have been each of those things at one point or another in my life, but not a fratboy. Never a fratboy. And I do take issue with lowlife, as well."

Rory glared at him. Logan was trying to make her mad and keep her flustered, so that he could control the conversation. The mental chess game had commenced and Rory would not be satisfied until Logan's "queen" lay bloodied at her feet. "Alright, I admit that you may have a point. I rescind 'fratboy lowlife' and replace it with callous, amoral, manwhore pig," she said with a sugary sweet smile.

"Wow, 'callous, amoral, manwhore, pig,' is it?" Logan's eyes widened, even as he smiled back at her just as sweetly. "You do have a way with words."

"It's a gift."

"Hmmm," Logan pondered, "I don't consider myself to be particularly callous or amoral. I may be a little wild and wicked every now and then, but certainly not to the point of depravity or immorality. So we can strike those from the list." He eyed Ace keenly, sending her another one of his unapologetic smirks. "As for 'manwhore,' well, I suppose it's really just a matter of semantics, but I prefer playboy or ladies' man, or maybe even stud."

"You forgot 'pig.'" Rory replied, her saccharine smile tightening a bit as Logan continued to stand before her undaunted.

"Ah, yes, 'pig.' I'm neither a glutton nor a slob, so pig doesn't exactly fit either. Pigs sure have gotten a bad rap though. I'm sure they're great animals."

Was there ever a moment when Logan was not so maddeningly composed and self-assured? It was all Rory could do to keep from stomping on his foot with the heel of her boot. This was not going the way she wanted. But she was not going to give up. She refused to let Logan continue to have the upper hand. Paris' words echoed in her ears. Hardball. She had to play hardball.

"Tell me," she said coldly, "what is it like to feel nothing?"

Logan cocked his head to the side and regarded her curiously. "I feel things, Ace," he replied simply.

Rory pressed on. She was determined to have it out with him once and for all. "Do you, Logan? Do you really? You have fun, party, spend money. You're smart, you have great friends and gorgeous girls at your beck and call. P. Diddy wishes he could be you. Obviously, you enjoy life. And, hey, that's great. Everyone's life should be so freaking perfect. But, Logan, does it even _mean_ anything to you?"

Like a warning sign, the cold, prickly feeling was back, winding its way up Logan's spine and across his neck. Unconsciously, he rubbed the back of his neck and wondered where Ace was going with her line of questioning. In his mind, they were entering dangerous territory. "Of course, it all means something, Ace. I'm not the apathetic, uninterested wretch that you seem to take me for. I enjoy life _because_ I don't take it for granted. Every moment is lived. We should all sound our barbaric yawp, if only for a moment."

Her brows furrowed. "Whitman?" She didn't feel like having a literary reference contest just now.

"C'mon, Ace, I'm sure you sniffed _Leaves of Grass_ when you were five," Logan teased. " 'I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world,' " he quoted. Rory wished he would stop. An intellectual Logan was guaranteed to make her knees weak. If only she didn't find his mind so brilliantly sexy, maybe she wouldn't have fallen so hard for him. "I know you feel that way, too, Ace. You're just a bit...more covert...more quiet about it," he added earnestly.

Rory considered Logan's words carefully. They were direct and honest, just as Logan had always been. Logan lived life to the fullest. He may be irresponsible at times, but no one could ever accuse him of being negligent or uncaring. Maybe they really were too different. Rory lived "in theory" – her world was one of books and ideas and dreams waiting for fulfillment. Meanwhile, Logan lived "in practice" – he brought his ideas and dreams to life, his world was all about _doing_, not thinking. If Logan was Walt Whitman, she was Emily Dickinson, the belle of Stars Hollow, cloistered from the outside world yet so eager to devour it.

As Logan stood quietly before her, Rory wondered how this Logan this smart, intuitive Logan could possibly be the same as that other Logan who drunkenly stomped on her heart and slept with other girls so easily. The two just didn't seem to reconcile.

"Why'd you do it?" she found herself asking without any thought.

"Do what?"

"Why did you sleep with what's her name with the spindly legs at the LDB event?" Rory's voice started to rise along with her temper and anxiety.

"What?" Logan stared back at her blankly.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," she said scornfully. "We were on the phone and you _told_ me how she was unbuttoning your shirt. It was beyond insensitive, Logan. I'm sure you were sounding your stupid yawp all night long." Rory made a face to convey her utter disgust.

Clarity dawned on Logan clear as day. Ace thought he'd slept with Alexa! He almost laughed from the sheer relief of finally figuring out what was bothering her. "Ace, I didn't sleep with Alexa. Nothing happened. Nor did I want anything to happen."

"Alexa? There's an Alexa? There really should be a Jeopardy category," Rory muttered under her breath, in shock at this sudden turn of events.

"What?"

Rory shook her head. "Nothing. Nevermind." She searched Logan's face for any sign of deception. "But what about the buttons?"

"Ace, _nothing_ happened. Forget about buttons or Alexa or anything else."

Rory looked at Logan with new eyes. There was a lot that still had to be said between them, but it felt good to not hate him anymore. It had pained her to be so angry with him. The past two weeks that Logan was not in her life had been practically unbearable. "I'm sorry I called you all those names," she murmured sheepishly.

Logan grinned. "No need to apologize, Ace. Jealousy becomes you. And I must say that 'callous, amoral, manwhore pig' is right up there with 'buttfaced miscreant.' I like your creativity."

"I wasn't jealous," Rory replied stubbornly. "Get over yourself, Huntzberger. I was just miffed at your total lack of sensitivity, that's all."

Logan merely laughed. Ace was so transparent. "Oh, just admit it, Ace, you hate the idea of me being with other girls."

They both went still.

The moment the words left his lips, Logan fervently wished he could take them back. He mentally cursed his own stupidity.

Rory's expression was unreadable in the moonlight and shadows. A part of him just wanted to grab her and kiss her senseless. But he held back, instinctively knowing that she would just push him away. Yet he couldn't _not_ touch her. Logan reached out and slowly started rubbing her upper arm.

His caress was so familiar and reassuring that Rory almost let herself believe that everything between them was alright. If only. Sighing, she pulled away ever so slightly. Logan let his hand drop back to his side. She knew that Logan was waiting for her to say something. Rory took a deep, measuring breath and looked up at him. "Remember the night of my grandparents' vow renewal ceremony?"

"Of course," despite feeling increasingly edgy, Logan couldn't help but smile. "What guy can ever forget having his life threatened for kissing the best man? But I assure you, it was well worth it."

Rory shot him a chastising look. "Don't even get all charming on me right now, mister."

"Can't help it, Ace. It's like breathing." Logan shrugged and smiled disarmingly.

Rory forced herself not to think about how adorable Logan and his dimples were. She could still feel the warmth of his touch on her arm. Somehow she found herself asking the question that had been plaguing her these last few weeks. "You said you weren't 'that guy.' Why aren't you, Logan? I just…I just need to know."

Logan was taken aback by her directness. Suddenly feeling the need for a drink, he looked around as if one would magically appear before him. Sighing, he took a step forward so that he could see her face more clearly. The image of Ace in that dressing room with the champagne bottle flashed before him. Her expression now was as it was then. In her eyes he could see a mixture of the need to be wanted, a curiosity about the unknown, fear of rejection, a yearning for something thrilling to happen, and an innocent boldness. Those eyes of hers tugged at his heart. Logan knew what she wanted, but he wasn't quite sure how to give it to her.

"Rory," he began as he unconsciously reached for her. His hands found her waist and grabbed a fistful of her sweater, bringing her dangerously close. Rory felt as if the world had stopped turning and everything but Logan ceased to exist. She waited with bated breath for whatever it was Logan was about to say.

"The truth is that I don't know why I'm not 'that guy.' I've just never wanted to be. And it's not like I've suffered some emotional trauma. There's been no agonizing heartbreak. No girl dumped me and led me to swear never to fall in love." Logan shrugged, wishing he could explain it in a way that could be understood, especially since he never tried to understand it himself. Ace was looking at him so intently that he felt compelled to keep talking. "I guess I don't want to be expected to behave a certain way. I don't want to be expected to check in, or not party with my friends, or to always be available, or to be everything that's expected of a good boyfriend." His brown eyes pleaded for understanding. "Is this making any sense to you, Ace?"

Rory nodded solemnly. H was making perfect sense. Almost against her will, she began to understand his point of view. He didn't want the responsibility of a relationship...at least not with her. "I see. So you're basically giving me the old 'it's not you, it's me' speech. I'm sure you've perfected it over the years." A hint of bitterness laced her words.

Frustrated, Logan shook his head. "No, that's not it at all, Rory."

"Then what is it, Logan?" Rory shivered slightly as the cold night air seeped through to her skin. Logan automatically began to rub her arms in long, soothing strokes. "There were times when I felt that you wanted to be with me, and only me. Even now, the way you look at me and touch me..." her voice trailed off softly. "Am I just imagining things, or are you just that good at making someone feel like the most special person in the world?"

"Ace, when we were on that dance floor I told you that you were special and I meant it. At the time, I deliberately kept myself from asking you out, because I knew that we'd inevitably get to this moment. And then you sort of forced the issue. You were so beautiful and funny and alluring...how could any sane guy resist? But do you think for a second that I thought you were the 'no strings' type, even though you were doing your best 'girls just wanna have fun' impersonation? I'm right, aren't I?"

"What, you want a medal or something?" she remarked saucily.

He could hear the smile in her voice and was glad that she didn't seem to hate him. "Well, I'll settle for a plaque or maybe a trophy to add to my collection," he replied.

"So about those strings..." Rory prodded. They were close. So close. She knew that there was something between them. Something worth discovering and exploring _together_. If only she could get him to admit it, Rory genuinely believed the rest would fall into place despite his objections about being "that guy."

"Yeah, those darn strings..." Logan thought he was prepared to face his feelings for Ace, but now that the moment had come he wasn't quite sure how to handle it. He was afraid he'd just end up disappointing her. "I think I'd make a terrible boyfriend, Ace," he admitted candidly, almost regrettably.

"Well, that's perfect! It'll make dumping you so much easier." Rory smiled up at him. The dazed expression on his face put her on the verge of laughter. "Relax, Huntzberger, I don't want us to be joined at the hip or to turn into some obnoxious couple calling each other pumpkin and honey bunny."

Despite his doubts, Logan's lips curved into a heart-stopping smile. "You and your mom have a Tarantino marathon or something?"

"Just last week, actually. You're lucky I didn't go all _Kill Bill_ on you, you know. I'd make a superb Deadly Viper Assassin."

"Is that right?" Logan murmured huskily, his mouth mere inches from hers. "I'm surprised you didn't bring out The Gimp."

Rory braced her hands on Logan's chest to steady herself. "Ah well, why send The Gimp out to do a woman's job." She thought she'd die from the sheer nearness of him. Her lips parted slightly in anticipation of his kiss.

"Excellent point." Logan moved ever closer. Instead of kissing her, however, he tenderly cupped her face in his hands and looked deep into her blue blue eyes. "What is it that you see in me, Ace?"


End file.
